When I see the old Greyhound bus come rumbling down the road, I straighten in my seat, clutching the steering wheel until my knuckles are white with tension. I’ve known about her return for a week now, but haven’t let the news set in that my one-time best friend is returning. Half of me thought this day would never happen because something would prevent her from coming home. I’m still not convinced that it will be her getting off the bus in a few seconds.
The Greyhound comes to a halt, its brakes squealing from the pressure. The door swings open and my eyes instantly scan the windows to see if I can spot Savannah. I hold my breath when I see candy-apple-red heels hitting the last step before reaching the cracked pavement. Her long blonde hair sways lightly from the exhaust blowing behind her. It’s stifling out and this is as much of a breeze as she’s going to get. She moves her head back and forth just like those stupid hair commercials my mom is always watching. She looks up and down the road before setting her hands on her hips. I shake my head, knowing that this ain’t my Savannah.
The bus isn’t pulling away so I know Savannah is still on it. I lean into the steering wheel to get a better look. The blonde side steps and allows the next passenger off the bus. This is my Savannah, with her shoulder-length brown hair and oversized clothes. She was always wearing her Uncle Bobby’s shirts when we were younger, afraid of how her body was changing. Jeremiah used to call her Mouse, and he’ll be happy to see that she hasn’t changed.
After throwing my shoulder into the door, I hop out and clap my hands once out of excitement. I rush over to Savannah and pick her up, twirling her around. “God, I’ve missed you. Are you ready to have the best summer of your life?”
“Uh, put me down, please.”
Fulfilling her request, but not ready to let go, I pull her into a hug. Her hands push firmly against my chest as she steps away. Savannah brushes off her clothes as if I’ve contaminated them. The blonde clears her throat and smiles. I roll my eyes. I know it’s probably real hard for her to stand here and watch this reunion, but it’s not my fault that her family isn’t here on time. By her looks, I’m sure she gets all the attention she wants.
“Are you ready to go, Savannah?”
“Yes, I am.” The blonde speaks up. I look at her. With her hand on her hip, she taps her toe on the ground and smirks.
“Look ma’am, I’m sorry your kinfolk aren’t here to get ya and if ya want we can wait, but I’m sure they’ll be along soon.” I reach for Savannah’s bags, but her hand stops me.
“I don’t know you,” she says quietly as she removes my hand from her suitcase.
“Excuse me?” I question, as I stand tall. “What do you mean you don’t know me?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know you and my name’s not Savannah.”
“Mine is though, and just wait until I tell my Uncle Bobby how you tried to take someone else home, Tyler King.”
Slowly turning and eyeing the statuesque blonde, my heart stops beating. The smirk is back, or it never left. I step closer so I can see what happened to the mousy brunette I used to know. Her gaze follows mine and I look her over. She’s taller, leaner and, besides the obvious hair color change, looks nothing like she did when she left here. Her teeth are straight and missing the metal that used to clog her mouth. There’s no way this woman is only seventeen years old.
I swallow hard and break eye contact. This ain’t gonna be good. When I thought she was this other girl, I pictured us hanging out. Now that I’m looking at her, the hanging out idea doesn’t seem to be the best thing for me. One thing’s for sure: New York did a number on my Savannah.
“Wow, Savannah.”
She nods, pursing her lips. “It’s Vanna,” she informs me as she stalks past me toward my truck. I follow her and mentally scold myself when my eyes fall on her cotton-covered ass. The mousy-non-Savannah mocks me in disgust. I run my hand over the back of my neck and sigh.